


While you were sleeping

by kylermalloy



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: (unfortunately), Canon Compliant, Gen, Worried!Merlin, hurt!Arthur, merlin wants to share his secret so bad, s4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 08:05:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14039844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylermalloy/pseuds/kylermalloy
Summary: There are times when Merlin longs to tell Arthur his biggest secret, but he just CAN'T. He tries. He looks for opportunities. And sometimes, he practices.Not a slash fic.





	While you were sleeping

**Author's Note:**

> So I've had this sitting in my documents for literal years, and I've never gotten around to publishing it.
> 
> Takes place in s4 of Merlin, anywhere between episodes 3 and 9. Again, not a slash fic.
> 
> So...here it is! Enjoy :)

The crisis had been averted, the panic in the castle long since subsided, but Merlin could not calm the fiery pit of guilt and fear in his stomach.

_How could I allow this to happen? Why wasn't I there to stop it?_ The questions pounded over and over in his head, nearly causing him physical, tangible pain.

Arthur lay prone in his gilded four-poster, stillness only broken by the steady rise and fall of his chest. His sleeping figure would have seemed peaceful, if not for the bloody bandage bound about the side of his head.

Gaius had tended to him, stitched his wounds, and pronounced that the king would recover with a few days' rest. Yet nothing could reassure Merlin, who couldn't move himself from Arthur's side, distraught by what a sickening twist such ordinary events had taken.

It hadn't been anything to worry about. A patrol had brought news of some uprisings in a small village, less than a day's journey from Camelot. Arthur had ridden out with some men to personally meet with the townspeople and discover the source of their unrest—without Merlin.

Unfortunately, some of the villagers hadn't been open to diplomacy, and the knights were met with open hostility upon arrival. A stray arrow fired by a farmer had found its way into Arthur's side, causing him to fall from his horse and sustain a heavy blow to the head.

Unable to rouse Arthur, Percival had returned him to Camelot immediately, prompting mild alarm to circulate the city. But he had been taken care of quickly, his stable condition and the certainty of his survival swiftly verified. None of the other knights had been injured, according to Percival, and Agravaine had since been dispatched to deal with the uprising in Arthur's stead.

Everything should have been fine.

But Merlin couldn't stop himself from imagining worse possible outcomes. Worse greetings by the villagers to betide them. Worse ways the king could have been injured. All because he hadn't been there with him.

"I should have gone, Gaius," he'd whispered shakily to the old physician as the two cleaned and bandaged Arthur's wounds together. "I could've stopped this."

"But you didn't," Gaius had replied calmly. "And it's all right. No permanent harm has come of it. Now stop worrying and hand me that poultice."

Merlin had tried to smile, but he was still plagued with remorse and a deep anxiety of what could have been.

That had been hours ago, and everyone had long since gone from the king's chambers. Even Gwen, who had rushed to Arthur's side as soon as her chores were finished, had retired to her house as darkness fell. But Merlin remained.

Seated by Arthur's bed, nearly bent double in distress, Merlin clasped his hands together in front of his mouth, attempting to stifle the pathetic, heaving sounds coming from his chest. He hated crying.

But even more he hated the pale tint of Arthur's skin, the raspiness of his breaths, the helpless position he was in because Merlin hadn't protected him sufficiently. This was his fault, for not going.

At times, being gifted such a noble destiny seemed like a blessing to Merlin. Learning of it some years ago from an enigmatic dragon had been a relief in some ways, an escape from the purposeless burden he'd carried through life thus far. His magic, though it had its practical uses, had been far more useful in making him an outcast growing up.

Coming to Camelot and discovering its true worth had not only given him fulfillment, but had also balmed his childhood fears of being a freak, a monster. Most of the time now, Merlin felt gratitude for the talents he was born with, even including the lifelong task they entailed.

Yet other times, Merlin sensed the weight of his destiny crushing him, mocking him. Like this moment.

_He could have died,_ whispered a malicious voice in his head that closely resembled Kilgharrah's. _You almost failed. Why weren't you with him? Why weren't you watching his every move? That is, after all, your purpose, isn't it?_

Merlin pressed his hands to his head, his fingers forming fists in his hair as he struggled to combat the cynical taunts raging through his mind.

He focused on the words of comfort Gaius had offered earlier: _"Merlin, there's no need for you to stay here all night. He's going to be fine. Don't blame yourself for this."_

_He's going to be fine._ He had to be.

Fighting to regain composure, Merlin drew in a deep, trembling breath and fiercely scrubbed away the lingering moisture on his cheeks. "Arthur?"

The young king showed no response to the hushed inquiry, proving to Merlin that he was indeed fast asleep. The serving boy leaned in toward the bed, close enough to rest his elbows on the soft mattress.

How many times he'd thought about confiding in Arthur his deepest secret. The skirmish in Ealdor, the battle against Kilgharrah, the days before and after Uther's death… Each instance had seemed opportune, obvious even. He and Arthur had been through so much together, so many exercises of trust and tests of loyalty, that Merlin dared hope, in his heart of hearts, that his friend would accept his true identity rather than toss him in prison.

Yet he never made that leap. Never chose to reveal who he was, what he could do. Because, also in his heart of hearts, Merlin was afraid. Afraid not only of how Arthur would respond, but what he would think. Would he be able to appreciate the pure, untarnished motives behind the years of deception? Or would he only see the lies, the duplicity? Would he think Merlin had betrayed him?

He wanted to believe his hope, to believe that Arthur would understand. He wanted to eradicate all the walls of stony silences and secrets between them and just _trust_ his friend with the truth.

Right now, this was as close as he could attain.

Merlin spoke up again, barely whispering the fated words. "Arthur, I know you can't hear me, and even if you could you probably wouldn't listen, 'cause you're such a dollop-head. But I have to tell you sometime."

He took one last glance around the room to assure their solitude, his heart hammering out of his chest and into his throat. New tears pooled in his bleary eyes, and this time he didn't wipe them away.

"I have magic, Arthur. I'm a sorcerer. I was born with it. And—and I know what you think about that sort of people, that's why I never told you. I use my magic to save your life whenever you're in danger. And…and that's why you're hurt now, because I wasn't there to stop any of it. I'm—I'm _sorry._ "

Merlin stuffed a fist between his teeth, biting down to muffle his growing agitation. He persisted in earnest, his voice rising to a fever pitch. "Now Agravaine's out there instead of you. Heaven knows he'll be much harsher than you with them, he doesn't understand like you do. And Gwen, Gwen'll be worried sick, worse than me, because for some mysterious reason she loves you even though she doesn't have to. Why anyone would is beyond me.

"Gaius said there's nothing to worry about, but I _am_ worried, because I'm responsible, and I _can't_ be responsible for your death." He broke off triumphantly, breathing hard. "There. I said it."

Arthur still didn't stir, save for his deep, sleepy breaths.

Merlin managed an unsteady, slightly giddy chuckle. "If you were awake, you'd call me a girl and slap me upside the head right about now. Oh, aside from the part where you cart me away for being a sorcerer, that is."

It wasn't funny, not in the slightest. Yet even when Arthur lay unconscious, unaware, Merlin knew his loathing of him showing weakness. Considering how vulnerable he'd just made himself, a witty remark seemed appropriate.

"I don't want credit or glory. I just want you to know how much I believe in you—everything I risk, it's for you. For the future you'll bring. And…and I want you to believe in me, too."

Of course, that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. Arthur hadn't heard any of Merlin's admissions, and even if he had, he probably wouldn't have taken them seriously. Arthur seemed physically unable to treat Merlin with the same dignity and respect he reserved for all his other subjects.

Since Merlin had known Arthur, he'd watched him mature from a swaggering, injurious bully into a sympathetic and benevolent, albeit imperious, leader of his people. Even the lowly peasants who came from outer towns, fearful and self-conscious before the grandeur of Camelot, were put at ease by the king's kindness. Merlin, though, in Arthur's own words, didn't count.

Perhaps that was why he was blind to Merlin's talents as well. Sometimes Merlin took risks in front of Arthur that, while at the time were necessary, seemed suicidal in retrospect. Yet Arthur still simply saw his lazy, clumsy, doggedly loyal idiot of a servant.

Maybe he needed to understand, though.

Having said his piece, Merlin leaned back in his chair, resting his chin on one hand, elbow propped on the chair's arm. It had been a long, exhausting day, full of excitement. Perhaps Arthur would be better in the morning, and Merlin could properly say to his face what he'd babbled about in the night. Perhaps then he'd be brave enough, having already revealed the truth once…

…

"Merlin. _Merlin._ "

Well-accustomed to the demanding, expectant tone of his master, Merlin's body snapped instinctively into consciousness, faster than he could gain control of it. His head jerked itself upright, knocking into the back of Arthur's high-backed seat. _"Ow."_

"Are you sitting in my chair?"

Merlin massaged the sharp ache from his scalp, wincing as he tried to reorient himself to his surroundings.

"Merlin, were you _sleeping_ in my chair?"

His befuddled brain finally made the realization: He wasn't supposed to be hearing that voice. Merlin squinted in the dim light, focusing at last on the familiar face. Bright eyes wide open and curious. "Arthur, you're awake?"

"More so than you, apparently. What were you _doing?_ "

Memories from the emotional night before floated across Merlin's mind, sobering him and causing a cascade of new anxieties for speculation. What if Arthur had heard everything he'd said, the words swimming in his brain like a dream? How could he explain staying in Arthur's chambers all night? How could he apologize without revealing his secret?

"I—you…you were hurt. Percival brought you back. Do you remember?"

Arthur winced. "I remember getting shot. Falling off my horse…" He made no attempt to move, which in itself indicated how much pain he was in. Normally once he woke, he would burrow in his blankets in an effort to find more sleep.

"You're fine now," Merlin reassured him, though he still kept a worried eye on his friend, watching him with bated breath for any signs of further injury. "Gaius fixed you up."

Arthur's brow knitted in confusion. "So what are you doing in here? Were you here all night?"

"I just…" Merlin stammered. "I wanted to…to…" What could he say? What silly excuse could he make for this? "I'll get you breakfast. You must be hungry."

"Merlin, it's not yet dawn," Arthur stopped him. He examined Merlin more closely, a touch of concern mixed with the bewilderment in his expression. "You look terrible."

Merlin could well imagine the dark circles under his eyes, the drained look he'd worn for days after he'd failed to save Uther's life. But he forced himself to grin and retort, "You look worse."

Arthur acknowledged his remark with a glum, petulant grimace. "I rode all day yesterday, to that village." His face grew pensive. "I never did find out why they were so…"

"Cross?" Merlin provided, indicating Arthur's bandages with a touch of irony.

"That's putting it mildly."

"Your uncle went to take care of it. He should be back sometime today."

Arthur brightened at the news. "Excellent."

Merlin sobered quickly at the thought of Agravaine. If Arthur's ambivalent uncle had stayed at the castle, he might have taken advantage of the king's poor health to stage an untimely death. Hosting yet another enemy of the Pendragons in the very heart of Camelot was unsettling, particularly when Arthur, drawing from childhood memories, wouldn't hear a word against the man.

At least Agravaine, unlike Morgana, had no magic.

Guilt still roiled inside Merlin like a persistent stomachache. His best friend, the man he was sworn and destined to protect, had been hurt simply because of his absence. "Arthur, I…I'm sorry I wasn't there. Yesterday. I could've…" He trailed off, unsure of how to continue. "…done…something," he finished rather feebly.

Arthur smirked halfheartedly. "Merlin, you couldn't have done anything."

"Yes, I could've." To tell or not? Could he find the courage of last night? "I…"

_I can't do it._

"I believe you're rather overestimating your abilities, Merlin. Having…what are they called? Delusions of grandeur."

Merlin rolled his eyes. _If only you knew._

"But I appreciate your concern."

"Don't mention it, sire."

Arthur shifted his arm languidly, attempting to place a hand under his head, and grimaced in pain at the movement. "My head. My _side._ "

Merlin rose and headed for the hallway dutifully. "I'll get Gaius to bring you something."

"Please," Arthur called after him, wincing again in discomfort as he tried to turn his carefully bandaged head.

Ducking from the royal chambers, Merlin leaned against a wall in the corridor, taking deep, trembling breaths. _I really am a coward._

But he was a wise coward. Arthur would never accept the truth, not unless circumstances were very dire indeed, perhaps not even then. As much as he wanted to reveal his secret, Merlin knew that the best way to stay by Arthur's side was to remain silent. Remain apparently useless and clueless. Remain second to Agravaine, the treacherous snake, in holding the king's trust.

Just like his whispers in Arthur's bedchamber last night, this, for now, was the best he could attain.

**Author's Note:**

> Belated disclaimer: I do not own Merlin. (If I did the show would've ended a lot differently!)
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed! I'd love to hear what you think, so leave a comment!
> 
> Thank you for reading KylerM.


End file.
